Figures in the Dark
by WilliamJago
Summary: Imperial Year 1001. People had been disapearing for months, the latest incident was the final straw. But where did the threat lie-the strange shapes in the graveyard? The figures on the edge of the forrest. Or was it closer to home?
1. The Mark

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop products and I am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story.

Hello everyone, just launching my newest project. This one was originally supposed to be part of a collection of short stories, but it is already larger than I would have liked so I have decided to do it as a stand-alone story instead.

A-A-A

IC.

The young girl ran into the clearing, little legs pumping madly and her breath coming in short, sharp gasps that froze in the cold night air. She froze fearfully upon breaking cover, noting with relief that the clearing was empty. The twin moons shone brightly, bathing the open area in in pale light. The little figure looked around nervously, listening to the faint rustling of creatures in the undergrowth, the faint hooting of an owl as it took flight. Everything outside the clearing into was encased in pitch blackness, not a single shape visible beneath the top of the canopy.

Not wishing to tarry here for long the girl began searching frantically, heaving a sigh of relief when her gaze fell upon a bundle of red cloth lying at the opposite end of the clearing. She ran forward to snatch up the little bundle. Freya would scold her terribly for stealing away from the group at this hour but it would all be worth it now that she knew that her little friend was safe tonight.

Suddenly a hooded shape darted out from between two bushes, loping lightly up the little figure. The child turned to look up into the dark face of the approaching figure.

The shrill scream rang out through the forests, scattering birds from their roosts and sending small animals running for cover, screeching in alarm. Then all was still and the curtain silence fell as abruptly as it had been lifted, the birds returning to roost and the animals creeping out of their bolt-holes to resume foraging.

Freya spun on her heel in alarm, dark frightened eyes roaming over the dark body of the woodland behind her. The two younger girls behind her came to a halt and with a jolt of horror she realised that one of them was missing.

"Where is Katherine?"

The elder of the girls looked up nervously, "oh, she went back to fetch her doll, said she had left it in the clearing. She said she'd catch us up."

"WHAT!" Freya seized the ringleader by the collar and pulled her closer, "how dare you let her go like off like that! Do you have any idea what could be out there?"

"I told her not to go Freya," the girl was close to tears, "but she wanted to get her doll, she knew you wouldn't let her go. I tried to stop her, she wouldn't listen!"

Freya slapped her hard across the cheek. "Don't give me that! You should have told me you stupid child! If anything has happened to her your mother will never forgive you!"

Although only twelve Freya was reckoned quite mature, certainly mature enough to look after the villages' younger children when they left to play in the forest, and she knew that ultimately the responsibility for anything that happened would be hers alone to bear. Seizing both children by the arms she began to run hard for the village, now only a mile distant.

"For your sakes we had better pray to Ulric that no harm has come to her."

A-A-A

"This way lads!" Gordo Leichbart led the way through the trees, two more men at his heals. Grunting with the effort the huntsman pulled back on the lead of Borgo, bringing the black mastiff to heal. The big dog waited for his master to step over the rotting stump of a long dead tree before setting off again, nose to the ground as he continued to follow the scent.

Leichbart gripped his hunting spear tightly, holding the long weapon poised to thrust should any threat present appear from the shadows. It had been less than an hour since the three girls had come running into the village in a panic, screaming that Katherine had been snatched away by the fay folk. Within mere moments the village had been roused into action.

Eighteen men had armed themselves and had set out with their dogs for the clearing that lay north-east of the village. Coming upon the clearing they had found it empty but a search of the surrounding area had located Katherine's little red-hooded doll, lying where it had been dropped in the branches of a low-lying gorse bush. Borgo seemed to go crazy upon sniffing the doll and had immediately made off through the trees, heading further north and dragging his master after him.

Now the men had spread out into groups of two and three on either side of him, all searching for signs of the missing child. In this way they would cover ground more quickly, essential if they were to find the girl before midnight. For with each passing hour the odds of finding the young girl alive diminished, the harsh winter weather would see to that.

Suddenly shouting broke out to his left.

"Gordo, over here!"

Pulling hard at the mastiff's lead the big huntsman pushed on to the left. The sound of flowing water reached his ears and he realised that they must have reached the river. That was cause for hope, children were taught not go beyond the river and if the girl had simply taken fright and run then she would surely have halted here.

Gordo felt his hopes evaporate when he broke through the last screen of bushes into the open area of the riverbank. Two men stood on the bank, their expressions grim. Without a word one man pointed downwards.

There on the river bank lay a single tiny shoe, identical to the ones given to the village children.

Beside it was the imprint of what looked like a clawed human foot.

TBC.


	2. The Council Gathers

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop products and I am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story.

Hello everyone, just launching my newest project. This one was originally supposed to be part of a collection of short stories, but it is already larger than I would have liked so I have decided to do it as a stand-alone story instead.

This story is turning out different than I planned-effectively I am dividing two stories in two and having to reinvent this one (hence my decision to rename it), hopefully I can make a decent job of it.

A-A-A

The wind blew hard, pulling at the huntsman's cloak as he made his way towards the black shape of the village church, its single spire silhouetted against the moonlit sky like some huge fang. Shielding his face with a raised arm he pushed onwards to the church doors and, after some fumbling, located the black iron knocker and beat it loudly. After a moment he reached up to beat the ring again, only to withdraw his hand when the sound of a pair of bolts being drawn back reached his ears.

With a loud creaking of rusting hinges the door swung open and Gordo stepped gratefully through the opening. In the flickering orange glare of the torches Gordo found himself looking down at a small, skinny figure with a shock of brown hair atop its head and a youthful face framing a pair of grey eyes. It wore a robe of dark brown wool and was shivering noticeably in the cold air.

"Good evening Brother Holgar; is the council assembled."

"Yes sir," Holgar hastily took the man's cloak, "they are waiting for you at the altar." With that the young man hurried away, his shoes leaving faint muddy footprints on the stone floor.

Gordo hastily made his way through the inner door, a small sack clutched in his right hand. All heads turned as he approached down the aisle between the rows of seats. Up ahead of him, standing atop the raised wooden pulpit, the black robed figure of the old priest nodded a greeting.

"Ah, Gordo Leichbart, I am glad you could join us at last."

Father Hawker's voice was thin and reedy. At sixty five years of age the man was well past his prime and looked it. He was stooped badly, the hair on top of his head had fallen out long ago and what was left had turned a deep shade of grey. Combined with a large hooked nose and heavily wrinkled face it was really not surprising that many of the village children had taken to calling him 'Old Prune Face' when they thought he was out of earshot. Hawker was well of these rumours and had been quick to come down on any careless offenders, beating several children for misbehaviour during their weekly lessons at church. When the parents had protested to him the priest had shrugged his shoulders and replied "I merely follow the doctrines of our beloved church. Whilst I agree that children must be shown love and affection they must also be taught strict discipline and respect for their elders. You are not, I presume, questioning the laws that have been laid down by the church of Sigmar?"

At this the protestors would fall silent-Hawker might be loathed throughout the village but his name was known to the governing priest of the area and he had used this connection to his own ends on several occasions, often at the expense of other villagers. Those who had crossed him had always come off worst.

"Yes please forgive my lateness; my daughter is still in shock from tonight's events."

"Freya is a strong girl Mr Leichbart, and you may rest assured that I will speak with the children tomorrow if they are still troubled."

A short, stocky man with a cap of receding black hair muttered "as well she might, given that this whole mess came about by her blundering."

"I beg your pardon!" Gordo's eyes narrowed as his gaze fell upon John Gauch, the village miller, where he sat in the right hand aisle.

Hawker quickly intervened lest an argument should break out, "tempers are on edge today gentlemen, so I suggest that we remember why we are gathered here. Mr Leichbart if you could take the floor and tell us what you found this night."

Gordo rose to his feet, waited for the priest to take a seat, and ascended the steps to the pulpit. He looked down at the people gathered before him-six in all, the most prominent people in the village. To his left John Gauche sat in the front row of the aisle, with Father Hawker now sitting next to the miller. To the left of the priest sat Hank Spurger who ran what passed as the village's inn. Behind them he recognised Rebecca Nurse, an elderly woman who still plied her trade as a midwife and healer and who was also the only woman allowed to sit on the village council. The front row of the aisle to his Gordo's right was occupied by the village's chief watchman Otto Blauche and his deputy Kurt Leichbart who was also Gordo's eldest son.

He caught a movement in the corner of his eye, glanced to the left and for the second time that night espied the skinny figure of Malus Holgar. The young man had pressed himself into the shadow of a stone pillar against the far wall and was now all but invisible. He must have slipped in through the side door and did not want to be caught eavesdropping. Gordo considered revealing his presence, but decided it would do no harm if he were to hear the proceedings.

"You are all doubtless aware of what happened tonight. When my daughter came back to the village and told us that one of the children was missing I put together a search party and we made for the forest clearing that lies to the north east of here. She told us that the child, a little girl by the name of Katherine, was headed there and it seemed the best place to start. We found no sign of the child in the clearing, but the dogs scented something there and we followed a trail into the forest where we found these two items," He moved to the church altar on his left and from the sack produced two items which he then placed upon the altar.

In the dim candlelight the dark red cloth on the doll reminded him of the colour of blood.

"The child's doll was found a little way into the woods. The shoe we discovered on the banks of the river to the north of the clearing".

"And what of the child?" Hawker's voice was low. In the other aisle the constable leant across to whisper something to his deputy.

"We could find no trace of her; we searched the area around the clearing and the river bank thoroughly but found nothing."

"Well perhaps you did not look hard enough", this remark Gauch made in a low voice which showed that it was meant to be unheard, but Gordo swung an angry gaze upon him.

"What did you just say?"

Father Hawker raised a placating hand in an effort to stifle the quarrel before it could begin, "Mr Gauch meant no offence to you I am sure."

"I should hope not, I do not recall seeing him amongst the searchers when the young girl disappeared."

Gauch flew to his feet angrily, 'now you just…!"

"ENOUGH!" Hawker's figure was frail but when roused his voice could drown out every person in the room, "you two will get yourselves under control at once. In case you have forgotten we are here to discuss the disappearance of a young girl, not to waste time in endless bickering! You will sit down at once Mr Gauch, and you, Mr Leichbart, will kindly restrain yourself."

Both men apologised hastily and the priest gave a satisfied nod, "Now then, not to question your efforts of course, but are you sure that you checked everywhere?"

"I am sir, and we found only one thing."

"And what was that?"

"We found it alongside the shoe. It was footprint that was embedded in the mud of the riverbank. Judging by its position whatever made it must have jumped into the river and crossed somewhere downstream, for we found no further footprints nearby." He paused, his gaze straying to each person present, "and the footprint was fresh, it could not have been more than one hour old."

"You believe that it was made when the shoe was dropped there."

"I have had time to think about it, and I believe that it was. Whatever made that footprint must have passed through at the same time as young Katherine."

"And you could not find any other footprints?" now it was the constable who spoke.

"No."

"Did you not find any that could have been made by the child?"

"I am afraid not."

"I see," Blauche leaned back in his seat, tilting his head back to stare up at the dark wooden timbers that lined the roof above. After a moment's silence he emitted a deep sigh and straightened up. "We have to ask this question sooner or later, though I fear we will not like the answer. In your opinion Mr Leichbart could the child have crossed that area without leaving any footprints in the mud?"

Gordo shook his head slowly, "An adult perhaps, but not a child of her size."

"Do you have any theories as to how the shoe got there?"

"I fear that what made that print must have been carrying the child when it passed. I am certain that Katherine did not go that way willingly."

Father Hawker leaned forward, resting his chin on the palm of his right hand. "I cannot help but notice your choice of words Leichbart. Do you mean to say that we are dealing with an animal?"

"Well…not exactly."

"What do you mean 'not exactly', is it an animal or isn't it!"

Gordo's gaze met the priest's cold eyes, "the footprint was definitely shaped like that of a man."

"Then why did you not just say so?"

"I did not say so because whatever made this footprint had claws on the end of its toes."

In the silence that followed one could have heard a pin drop. After a moment had past the priest coughed to clear his throat.

"You found a man's footprint with claws on the toes?"

"That is correct Father."

Silence descended again. Gordo watched as the councillors traded looks of shock that slowly began to give way to fear. In the second row Rebecca Nurse hastily made the sign of the comet and muttered a prayer to Sigmar. John Gauche fidgeted nervously with the dagger at his hip and Father Hawker coughed again, louder than before.

"What can this mean?" Hank Spurger spoke for the first time since the huntsman's arrival, "are saying that you think we might have a beast man in this area?"

"Don't be ridiculous Hank," the miller's voice was a sneer, "I've heard a lot about those creatures from the travellers who come through your tavern, and you ought to know they come in the cloven hoofed variety."

"You should not be so quick to dismiss the possibility Mr Gauch, the forces of Chaos come in every shape and whilst it is true that many beast men are cloven hoofed I happen to know that there is no uniform pattern to their mutations. Indeed, many have been found still sporting human features and it would not surprise me to find one with human feet."

"Of course Father, forgive me."

"But let me ask you Mr Leichbart, do you believe that we could have such a creature on our hands?"

Gordo shrugged his heavy shoulders, "I would be reluctant to dismiss the possibility Father, especially given recent events."

"Ah, I take it that you are referring to those sightings we have had in the graveyard and the wood?"

"I am Father; there must surely be a connection."

"Well," now Father Hawker rose to his feet, straightened his aching back and moved to stand between the pulpit and the audience, "I thought we had all agreed that all the trouble was down to that wolf pack. Indeed since we hunted them down there have been no further problems, isn't that so?"

A general murmur of agreement swept across the gathering.

A-A-A

The 'trouble' to which the priest was referring had begun eight months previously during the last days of August. It was then that the local pedlar had come to the village with a supply of grain and dried meat, which he had exchanged with the villagers for strips of woven cloth and sacks of grain to be sold in the hamlets and villages nearby. The man had left early the following morning and the villagers had gone about their daily business. There had been no cause for concern.

Late that night several village storehouses had been raided, the bolts fastening their doors broken off and all the meat taken. At first the villagers had though this was the work of thieves or bandits, but strangely the grain and the wheat was untouched. Crops were valuable goods, why would thieves overlook them? A hunt was quickly launched but to no avail. No footprints had been found and the early morning rain had washed away the scent. By midday the trail had gone cold and the hunters had come back in defeat.

The fact that such a theft had occurred so soon after the pedlar's departure had soon aroused suspicions and the next day several men had set soon out for the man's next known destination-the village of Brackburg. The journey to this small collection of houses would last two days, but the men knew the road well and had been hopeful of catching up with him before he had reached it.

They had found nothing, no trace of the man or his pack animal. A day old trail had been found several miles from the village, but it had detoured into forest and was lost. Enquiries at Brackburg revealed the pedlar had not reached there. The men waited two more days and he did not arrive. They scoured the surrounding area, even visiting the nearest farms in search of news. There was none forthcoming. The man had simply vanished.

It was disturbing, but it gave no cause for alarm. He might have simply decided to cut through the forest to avoid pursuit; he might equally have fallen foul of wild beasts or bandits-the woods were, after all, a very dangerous and little explored place that seemed to draw in outlaws like moths to a candle flame.

One week after the raid on the supply sheds a pig was taken from right outside a neighbouring farmstead. The farmer and one of his herdsmen had set out in pursuit of the thieves within the hour. Two hours later the farmer's dog had limped home badly wounded. The alarm was sounded when both men had failed to return at dawn. A search was mounted, nothing was found save for a few bloodstains. After selling her stock the widow and her children had relocated inside the village to live with her sister.

Only two weeks later two villagers had chanced upon a body of a woman in the woods, some fifteen miles north of the village. Gordo had gone with the priest and two other men and brought the remains into the village for burial. The woman was unknown to anyone from the area and had been buried in an unmarked grave. Enquiries were made but no one knew who she was and the badly decomposed state of the body, which must have been lying in the forest for several days, had made it difficult to establish the cause of death. Eventually, following the discovery of deep claw marks along the legs and the torn state of the abdomen, it was put down to an animal attack.

Things had then had gone quiet for six weeks, before reports had reached the village that two shepherds had reported losing five sheep from their herd. Two had been found half-eaten in the forest. It had the look of a wolf kill but heavy rain had washed away all tracks and scent and nothing more was found.

Three weeks later and one of the miller's assistants, a young man named Albert, had set off to check a remote hut that lay ten miles north-east of the village. The hut was quite remote, used only for storing fodder during the winter months and visited only by passing shepherds and woodsmen. The man's trip was to last two days, during which he would visit both huts in that area to inspect their stores and exchange news with any shepherds he came across. Normally his failure to return after three days would have aroused no great alarm, but in view of everything that had happened recently it was seen as a definite cause for alarm. Gordo Leichbart had led a four man search party out to the hut where they discovered evidence that someone, probably the missing man, had slept there for at least one night. Not far from the hut they had run into a shepherd who reported seeing a man matching the description of the missing villager heading north to where the second hut was known to be. That had been nearly three days ago. When questioned further he admitted that he had heard cries that same night but had been unable to decipher from which direction they came.

Gordo and his party had camped in a clearing that night. Shortly before dawn the man on watch had woken everyone and reported that he had seen someone watching them from the trees. He had appeared quite frightened, describing the apparition and thin and wraithlike with a pair of large eyes that had seemed to glow red in the faint light of dawn. No trace was found on the spot where he claimed to have seen the figure, but the men had nonetheless proceeded to the second hut with more caution. There they had discovered blood stains on the leaves of a bush just outside the hut. There was no evidence of anyone having slept there. No trace of the missing man had been found and whether it was his blood on the bush or that of someone else, no one could say.

Now thoroughly alarmed, the villagers had decided to send a report to the sheriff of Rochstahl, a town that lay roughly northwest of the village. Mounted on a fast horse, their messenger had covered the distance in three days and had returned with a curt reply telling them that a force would be sent to investigate and to let him know if anything else should occur.

The 'force'-a group of four men led by a sergeant, had arrived four days later, only to find that in the time that had elapsed there had been another disappearance. One day several children had been out playing in the forest when a sudden noise had startled them. They had all bolted for the village but one young girl had run back to retrieve a dropped possession and was never seen again.

The sergeant acted quickly and began interrogating villagers on arrival. When this had failed to yield any results he and his men had left to inspect the areas where the disappearances were known to have taken place. The villagers had told him that he would find nothing the sergeant had irritably overruled them, doubtless wanting to be seen to be doing something, and had left with one of the village huntsmen as a guide.

Darkness fell and the villagers had begun to turn in, all except for Rebecca Nurse who had decided to go to the village cemetery to place flowers on the graves of her relatives. Although it could be an eerie place at night the cemetery did lie within the boundary of the village stockade and as sentries had been posted on the gates she had felt safe enough.

When Rebecca Nurse had arrived at the cemetery however, she had received the fright of her life. Upon entering the gate she had been confronted by a shadowy figure with burning red eyes. Sensing her presence the creature had emitted a jeering cry and lunged for the woman who had fled screaming for the nearest house. Several villagers had immediately armed themselves and run to the cemetery, but by the time they had reached it the creature had gone. The men on the gates had reported that nothing had got pas them and a search of the village had revealed nothing. Once again a pursuit was mounted and again the dogs had picked up a scent only to lose it again, although this time no one had been able to understand why as there had been no rain for several days.

Upon his return the sergeant had been furious at his failure to be on hand when the culprit had appeared and had determined to track it. Having concluded that pursuing the creature was useless he had determined to bait and trap it. With this the soldiers had commandeered a sheep (much to the consternation of its owner) and had the animal tethered to a peg which they had had erected twenty feet from the clearing. A series of gin traps and caltrops had been concealed around the area-the former to trap the culprit, the latter to cripple it should it evade the traps. If the culprit was indeed a Beastman, and the sergeant was willing to consider this possibility, would be very vulnerable to such traps and the sergeant had been hopeful of success.

When nothing happened on the first night the sergeant had been unphased; when nothing had two hours after darkness had fallen; the sentries on the gate had been alerted by panicked bleating from where the sheep was tethered. Seconds later this was drowned out by a high pitched yelp of pain. At once the soldiers had rushed to the spot with torches lit and weapons drawn. Caught in one of the traps they had found a large black wolf thrashing about in pain. The beast was quickly killed and a quick check of the area had revealed a trail of blood leading away from the area, evidence that at least one wolf had fled the scene. Unfortunately in their hurry to kill the beast one of the solders had blundered into a gin trap and it had taken four men to force the iron jaws far enough apart to allow him to pull his leg free. Thus it had been nearly half an hour before a hunting party had been ready to set out.

It had taken them a full day to track down the wounded animal. With their dogs leading the way the hunters came upon the den as dusk was descending and in a short, savage skirmish they had killed three adult wolves. Determined to finish the job the men had spent the next two hours digging up the den. One wolf was found taking refuge in the earth and swiftly killed, as were the two pups they had found cowering at the bottom of the den. There were no more to be found and when further investigations of the area could discern no sign of other wolves it was concluded that they had wiped out the entire pack. The men had returned home in triumph, the pelts of their quarry paraded before them as trophies. After a further two days stay the sergeant had led his men back to Rochstahl, confident that the killings would stop.

After a full six weeks had passed the villagers had concluded that the he had been right and that their problems were over.

A-A-A

"Well we have a problem now Father; I'm telling you that that footprint was not made by a wolf. And now that you've brought up the subject, there are some things that just haven't been sitting right with me."

Hawker gave him a puzzled frown, "really, and what would those be."

"Some little details Father. I did not think much of it at the time but I have been thinking about it increasingly over the last couple of months. I know wolves-I've studied them, I've tracked them and I've hunted them all my life, in all conditions. I know how to tell if a wolf has passed through the area and the more I think about it the more convinced I become that those attacks were not carried out by wolves. For one thing the storage sheds that were robbed showed no trace of forced entry-no wolf could have opened those doors without chewing through them, and yet there were no claw or teeth marks, not even a single paw print. Did that fact not strike any of you as odd?"

He looked around at the assembled people as they began muttering amongst themselves. Evidently some of them had harboured that suspicion, even if they had not voiced it. He continued, "and then there was the stolen pig, the disappearance of the farmer and his assistant and that of young Albert. No bodies, not even a piece of them. Wolves do not drag their prey off; they eat it where it falls, but if we assume that the men were killed where we found the blood then that would indicate that their bodies were dragged away. It could not have been a wolf that did that, not to mention the fact that we found no remains at the wolf den."

Father Hawker coughed politely, "Mr Leichbart, are you saying that those wolves were not responsible for the killings?"

"Not for the loss of Albert or the farmer. They may have killed those sheep that we found and perhaps that woman; but not the others-we would have found signs if they had done those killings. And whilst we are on the subject Mrs Nurse, could you positively identify the creature you saw in the graveyard as a wolf? "

The old woman seemed rather taken about by this unexpected question, "I…well that is to say…it was very dark and I did not get a good look at it."

Gordo pressed her, "but could you identify it as a wolf?"

She paused, clearly trying to remember what she had seen that night. After a moment she shook her head, "I cannot say for sure what I saw but no, I could not positively identify it as a wolf. I really do not know what it was."

Otto Blauche gave a puzzled frown, "the sergeant seemed pretty convinced when he left."

"Oh I'm sure he was," Gordo gave a snort of derision, "certain that he discovered a random culprit for a matter he never really looked into. I reckon that man was so eager to get back to Rochstahl as soon as possible and brag to his master about how well he did down here that he took the first chance he got to close the matter. Come on Blauche, you must admit his investigations left something to be desired?"

The constable merely shrugged, "I would not presume to pronounce judgement on one of the sheriff's men. Especially given the fact that the attacks stopped after we destroyed those wolves, or do you have an explanation for that Mr Leichbart?"

"No", Gordo sighed, "no, I cannot explain that, but it does not change my convictions, at least some of those killings were not carried out by wolves and now it would seem that the creature in question has struck again."

"I see," Blauche slumped back into his seat, his face creased in thought.

"It is for this reason that I propose a search of the forest for this creature, starting tomorrow."

"A search?"

"Yes Mr Gauche, a search. We cannot allow it to pick us off one by one; we must take the fight to it. If nothing else it may allow us to work out which areas, apart from the clearing, that we need to be watching and where it likes to hunt."

"If I may," Father Hawker rose and stepped forward. With a nod of acquiesance Gordo stepped down and returned to his seat as the priest mounted the lectern. Hawker's speech began before he had finished climbing.

"Whether the previous killings were all the result of wolf attacks or not is not the issue here. The issue is that right now we have a killer on the loose that is, according to the available evidence, not of the lupine variety. Catching this thing and killing it is our top priority and since we have no trail to follow then it makes good sense to me to act on the available evidence whilst there is still time. This idea of a search seems to be the best option we have. Unless anyone can offer any better suggestions I suggest we pursue this course of action, starting tomorrow."

"We tried that tactic before Father, it never achieved anything," Gauche's voice was scornful.

"Not properly," Gordo turned round in his seat, "this time I think we should do a proper search of the area. We will use as many men and dogs as the village can spare and this time we conduct the search area by area, we leave no stone unturned and we do not stop under any circumstances until we find something."

"All the men,"

"But can we spare the men?" Kurt Leichbart spoke for the first time, "do you mean for us to search the entire forest father?"

"No son that would be asking too much, not with twice as many people as we have available could we accomplish such a search before the winter. No what I propose is that we start at the places where we know those violent acts have taken place. From there we will expand our search-if we conduct it carefully then I reckon we can find anything that may have been overlooked before."

"But even so, the manpower we'll need…"

Otto Blauche spoke next, "we will manage Mr Leichbart, the harvest has already been brought in and most of the winter preparations are ready. This 'thing' has proved itself a serious threat to us and it must be dealt with. I agree with you Gordo, we should start this search as soon as possible."

"But how many will you take, do you mean to leave the village defenceless!"

"No Mrs Nurse," Blauche rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily, "we will take as many men as can be spared but we will be sure to leave sufficient guards to protect the village whilst we are out. And whilst we are on the subject I think it would be wise to post a couple of men in the cemetery during the night-armed and concealed of course. If this thing has a fondness for such places then perhaps we can still catch it."

"An excellent idea, does anyone else have anything to say?" Hawker glanced around the group.

The council members exchanged several feverent whispers but no one spoke.

"Then in that case we are agreed, at daybreak we will gather here and form our strategy. Once we have a plan the village will perform a mass search of the forest, and in the meantime we should post extra guards on the gates and a couple in the cemetery-see if our culprit does put in another appearance. Does anyone have anything further they wish to add?" No one spoke. "Then may the blessings of the Lord Sigmar be upon us tomorrow. Until then I bid you all good night."

With that Hawker stood down from the lectern and began to dowse the candles. His curt dismissal signalled that the meeting was over. One by one the villagers rose from their seats and began to slowly meander towards the door where the young initiate stood waiting to show them out.

A-A-A

TBC.


End file.
